


Within Reach

by RileyC



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Doyle
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-24
Updated: 2010-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-06 16:01:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RileyC/pseuds/RileyC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The official version of <i>The Sign of Four</i> ends one way; this ficlet takes things in another direction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Within Reach

"Well, and there is an end of our little drama," I remarked after Altheney Jones had taken Jonathan Small away, and Holmes and I sat smoking for some time in a companionable silence.

"Yes." Sherlock Holmes tapped ash from his cigarette and cast a look my way. "I suppose Miss Morstan was disappointed that the treasure was lost?" he asked in so casual a way as to convey quite the opposite impression.

Recalling her ashen face upon beholding the empty box, the awkward way she had tried to disguise her reaction to this setback, I could not deny it. "Profoundly so, I believe."

He inhaled deeply, gaze fixed upon the mantel now, even less conviction in his manner as he ask, with studied indifference, "And did she fling herself upon your manly breast for comfort?"

"Holmes, really." Even as I reproached him, however, I could not quite restrain a smile.

For a time, borne of pique, of seven years believing what I wanted most would never be within my reach, I had felt myself drawn to Miss Morstan. We had shared, or so I imagined, a certain accord and sympathy, and for a moment that had held a powerful attraction. It had been a fleeting and ephemeral thing, however, and if that may have once been sufficient for me … well, these past seven years had changed me.

Perhaps I should never have what I wanted most, but neither could I find it within me to settle for anything less.

"You seemed to be cherishing some romantic inclination toward her," Holmes said, clearly unable to let the matter drop -- and in his stubbornness providing me the strongest glimmer of hope I had yet experienced.

"Did I?"

"So I observed."

"She is a very attractive woman."

To this he replied with an indecipherable grunt. "No doubt I should anticipate your banns being announced this weekend," he said, getting up from his chair to pace to the window.

This really was too much. "Sherlock Holmes," I joined him at the window, "you really are obtuse at times."

"I'm obtuse?" he replied, indignation suffusing him. "Doctor--"

"Holmes," I hardly knew myself what I was about to say or do, so my astonishment could surely have been no less than his, "draw an inference from this!" I declared, even as I pulled him to me and gave vent to seven years' longing and frustration.

It wasn't the way I had, sometimes, allowed myself to imagine our first kiss. There was none of the romance, the tenderness my idle daydreams had supplied … but that would come, once this fiercer hunger had been satisfied. For the moment my lips touched his, and I felt him come alive in my arms as if some hidden switch had been ignited, I knew I had not been alone in my yearnings all this time.

His long, thin arms enclosed me, his mouth parted to my tongue, and if he was not well-practiced in this art, I had little doubt that he would soon acquire considerable expertise. Tentatively, his tongue stroked mine, and I felt a tremor pass through his lean body, heard a soft moan escape his lips, even as he returned my kisses and pressed himself more firmly against me, fingers snarled in my hair to keep me there -- as if there was any chance of my trying to escape him.

"Well then," his voice was breathless, forehead pressed to mine, "in light of this further evidence, I can only conclude that you do not plan to take Miss Morstan for your wife."

My laugh was soft against his ear and he trembled as if it were a caress. "Brilliant, Holmes, brilliant," I whispered, kissing him just there.

He cradled my face between his hands then, looking at me so seriously, with a kind of wonder I had never glimpsed on his features. "Truly, Watson," he murmured, kissing my forehead, the corner of my mouth, "I never get your limits." His smile turned rueful then and he said, "But your mustache tickles."

I had no doubt he would grow accustomed to it, though, just as I felt a strong conviction this night yet had wonders to reveal.

*~*

All was calm and quiet now, as we lay together in my bed, all passion spent -- for now -- and not a doubt in my mind that, whoever may have lost a treasure that night, I had gained one of infinitely greater value.


End file.
